


Embers

by Lookingkindofdumb



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Snippet of life for Laurent and Auguste, Where Auguste likes to shirk council meetings and instead play with Laurent, despite Laurent's scolding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lookingkindofdumb/pseuds/Lookingkindofdumb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is in your interest to learn how to navigate the turbulent waters of state before it becomes essential." Laurent said.</p>
<p>"Well, that's what I have you for, isn't it." Auguste replied sunnily, bestowing upon Laurent the type of smile that people would willingly lay down their lives just to catch a glimpse of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embers

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small piece of fluff really.

_"'Auguste was straightforward: a champion, the heir, born to rule. You can imagine how Laurent felt about him.'_

_'He resented him,' Said Damen._

_Paschal gave him a strange look. 'No, he loved him. He hero-worshipped him the way that intellectual boys sometimes do, with older boys who excel physically. It went both ways with those two. They were devoted to one another. Auguste was the protector. He would do anything for his little brother.'"_

Exert from Prince's Gambit.

 

#

 

Laurent shivered and moved closer to the fire, cradling his book against his chest so he wouldn't drop it. For a moment he cursed the fact he was ten and didn't yet have the strength he might grow into. He had to be careful with this tome, it was older than most of the rest in the library and practically falling apart. It was filled with old folk tales, the kind forgotten about by almost everyone except the peasants who passed on the stories to their children as tales of caution.

He found it fascinating.

The chime of the bell, gentled by distance, rang out, alerting him to the hour. Regretfully he closed the book, mentally marking his page, before putting it back where he found it and making his way to the nursery.

His chaperone would have his noon meal ready and waiting. It wouldn't do to be late, he was a prince and that meant keeping to his word. He darted through the halls, scurrying out of the way of various servants carrying large bundles of laundry and platters of richly spiced meats. Using the servants hallways would get him a scolding if his tutors found out but Laurent took care to duck his head and keep moving fast, so that he might appear, on first glance, to be another serving boy.

He was good at blending in. It was often to his advantage to disappear into the background.

He made it to the nursery, used as his school room now he was older, in time.

Just as he had expected his lunch was ready on the table, still steaming. He glanced round the empty room and settled at the table, carefully laying out a knife and fork upon a richly embroidered napkin. He filled a goblet with water from the jug and lifted it to his lips. Before he could take a single sip his door swung open and a hurricane burst in, upsetting the neat arrangement of papers and sending his goblet crashing to the ground in surprise, spilling the clear water over the thick rug. 

"Laurent!" The golden eye of the storm called out, as if seeing Laurent in his rooms was a shock.

"Auguste." Laurent meant to sound chiding for the mess of an entrance but couldn't quell the pleasure evident in his voice nor the smile that swept his lips.

"What are you doing in here?" Auguste asked, looking around the precisely ordered room as if he might find all the secrets Laurent had tucked away lying about for him to open. A ridiculous notion, Laurent did not have secrets from his brother.

"Dining. As you should be." Laurent answered primly, folding his napkin and placing it on the ornately carved table.

"Is it noon already? Time does drag so during councils of state." Auguste complained, looking at him with a bright eyed glance that Laurent knew from vast prior experience spelled trouble.

"Maybe it wouldn't drag so much if you paid attention to what was being spoken of." Laurent retorted tartly.

"Don't wound me so! You know I can't bear the endless talk of taxes." Auguste bemoaned his fate. If he was expecting sympathy he should have visited elsewhere for Laurent had none for him. "If father didn't insist I learn by sitting at his knee..." His brow furrowed as it often did when he spoke of their father to Laurent. "Well, you know how he is," Auguste shrugged. Laurent didn’t; not really, speaking to him was not something of a priority to the king. Laurent often felt that in his father's presence he was as transparent as glass, looked through as though he wasn't standing there at all.

"You are the crown prince and will one day rule Vere. It is in your interest to learn how to navigate the turbulent waters of state before it becomes essential." Laurent said.

"Well, that's what I have you for, isn't it." Auguste replied sunnily, bestowing upon Laurent the type of smile that people would willingly lay down their lives just to catch a glimpse of. It made Laurent feel twelve feet tall whenever Auguste looked at him with that unyielding confidence and boundless trust. "You shall lead the council for me; it involves reading a lot so I know you will love it." Auguste teased like he did everything else. Sincerely.

Laurent rolled his eyes.

"A few council meetings will hardly kill you." He muttered without heat.

"That is where you are wrong. Sitting for hours in that dusty room has shrivelled my soul. I need fresh air should I ever hope to regain my spirits and return to the youth I enjoy." Auguste coughed pitifully. Laurent raised an eyebrow, the council of state's meeting hall was hardly dusty, it was clean, light and airy with windows spanning from floor to ceiling to let in the light.

"Come," Auguste beckoned, "I can't spend another moment indoors. Not whilst the sun is shining." 

Laurent glanced doubtfully at the windows where it revealed blue skies with only a few clouds dotted about. He crossed his arms, the sun might paint a different picture but it was cold enough inside let alone out there. They were well into the depths of Autumn.

"It isn't that cold." Auguste sighed and Laurent, unable to resist even the simplest request from his brother followed him out into the gardens.

"See, it isn't that bad." Auguste said as wind whipped through, seeking gaps in the weave of their clothing and trailing icy fingertips along any exposed skin. Laurent gritted his teeth so they wouldn't chatter. "If you get the blood pumping you will soon warm up." Auguste suggested, casting a not wholly unconcerned look his way.

"First one to the maple tree gets to decide the next track course." Auguste prompted before leaping into action with a challenging grin. Laurent sped after him as fast as his legs could go, he had the perfect plan of the next track course they could race their horses on. Auguste's routes were always too straightforward and he needed every edge if he had a hope of beating him now that Laurent had realised Auguste was letting him win and had forbidden it.

The cold air rushed through his lungs and he willed his body on. He was so focussed on being as fast as possible that he almost ran straight into the tree and only Auguste's familiar bulk stopped him from landing face first into the bark.

Laurent sprawled over the ground, inelegantly. He spat out a mouthful of grass and felt the new ache of his body where the impact had been absorbed. Auguste laughed, falling down to the ground next to him and incapable of speech just patted Laurent's ankle. Laurent twitched away his leg, he was not a horse to be soothed, and tried to fix his clothing as best as he could. 

His efforts sent Auguste into another paroxysm of laughter and did little to fix the stains. He gave up and just flopped over so that his back rested on Auguste's shins.

"You looked so surprised." Auguste gasped. Traitorously, Laurent felt his lips twitch.

"What trail will we next race on?" Laurent enquired once he judged his brother had enough composure to speak coherently.

"Ah, that is a secret." Auguste grinned smugly.

"You planned this." Laurent accused, letting the knowledge that he had been duped settle onto him. It was not an infrequent occurrence. Auguste did like to pull the wool over his eyes sometimes.

"No, but I did think you needed to get outside before you turned into one of those books you always stick your nose into, old, musty and frail." Auguste said, poking Laurent in the side. Laurent rolled out of the way of any wandering fingers and eyed Auguste's hands warily. Tickling was not a dignified activity and despite all that Auguste said to the contrary, Laurent was not ticklish.

"I go outside." Laurent protested. Auguste looked at him.

"Then what is it I hear of you missing your sword practice yesterday?" 

Laurent avoided his eyes and looked at the ground. He plucked a few strands of grass from the ground and watched them twirl in the breeze for an all too brief moment.

"Laurent." Auguste prompted gently. He sighed and felt a small kernel of shame in his chest at disappointing Auguste in any way.

"I'm not good at it." He admitted, feeling the pinch to his pride. He did not like not being good at anything.

"That is the purpose of training, to improve." Auguste said firmly. It was the tone of voice he used when arguing against him would be futile. Even the king listened when Auguste spoke thus.

"I know." Laurent mumbled, fiddling with the ties of his jacket.

"So you won't skip again?"

"No."

"Good." Auguste beamed, all seriousness forgotten. He darted to his feet and snatched a leaf from mid air, the red colour of it more warming than any ruby Laurent had seen. Auguste handed it to Laurent who took it with a bemused expression. "For luck." Auguste said, running out to grab another which he presented to Laurent as though it was the king's ransom.

Not to be outdone Laurent quickly caught another three leaves floating in the wind and passed them over. 

With the wind blowing about the leaves they soon had quite a collection and, pinked cheeked and laughing he forgot about the cold.

You could never have too much luck.

 

#

 

Laurent idly watched the slow, downward spiral of the few lonely leaves that fluttered on the empty branches of the trees. With an economy of movement he gently halted his horse and plucked one from the air before it could land on his face.

The wind was biting, icy without the promise of warmth and leeching all heat from his body. Nikandros had looked at him askance when Laurent announced his desire to ride. Laurent wasn't sure if it was because evening was setting in and all the days light was gone or if it was because the man thought him too pampered to endure the frigid temperature.

Hadn't he heard the whispers? Laurent was the ice prince incarnate; it was not such a stretch to imagine him enjoying the bitter chill that was only half so deadening than his soul.

The sound of hooves moving at a formidable face reached his ears. Laurent remained still and waited. Through the gloom of the steadily darkening sky Damen appeared astride his horse, cheeks red with the exertion and chill. While Damen's horse was large and of a build more for war than pleasure riding, Laurent's was built for speed, all smooth lines and strong legs.

"Have you given up?" Damen enquired, a smile playing about his lips. Laurent remembered their race; one which it was evident from the first few seconds that he would win being the better horseman. 

"Given up." Laurent repeated flatly, shooting him a cool look to which Damen responded with delight. Sometimes Laurent despaired of ever understanding the man.

"Does this mean I win?" Damen teased.

"And what, exactly, do you hope to win?" Laurent asked archly. Damen smiled, slow and sure, like they had all the time in the world, like they weren't two kings of recently warring countries, like they weren't outside in the cold. Warmth flooded through Laurent, reaching even to his fingertips at the steady, intent stare.

"A kiss." Damen answered simply, bypassing any and all of the things Laurent would have assumed. Laurent blinked then shook his head, predicting people was something he was very good at yet most of the time this man slipped under his guard.

Laurent reached out a hand expectantly and without a pause Damen gripped his fingers, leaning across the gap between their horses. He passed over the leaf.

"For luck." He murmured before reclaiming his hand and spurring his horse on. 

He hadn't lost a horse race in years (since Auguste) and he was not going begin so now.


End file.
